They’d nearly finished their work when Margo learned her first valuable lesson about scouting. She and Kynan had left the river, Kynan to hunt his dinner and Margo to stretch her legs and sightsee a little, leaving Koot to guard the camp. Margo carried the carbine slung over her shoulder, but only because Koot always pitched a fit if she didn’t. Game was so plentiful Kynan never had to go far and Margo was usually thrilled by whatever they found within a few dozen yards of the campsite. Margo was creeping through tall grass with her digital camera, edging toward a herd of springbok, when it happened. She heard a snort and glanced around to see a massive Cape Buffalo. The bull stood solitary against the skyline.
Oh… What a gorgeous animal!
He stared at her through dark eyes, not more than seventy-five yards away. His nostrils flared. He thrust one foreleg out, stiff-legged, as though posing. She lifted the digital camera and snapped a shot. Ooh, perfect … The bull snorted and lowered his head The horns were enormous, sharp-tipped, beautiful.
Kynan touched her arm. She glanced around. “What?”
He high-signed her, pointing urgently toward camp. She noticed he’d notched an arrow to his longbow while backing away. “There’s no danger,” she told. “He’s fifty yards away.” Margo clicked the camera from snapshot to video and began filming again, motion footage this time. The Cape Buffalo bull lowered his head even more and snorted again, cutting the turf with a sharp hoof.
Then he charged